The Beast of Seabourne

by Rhys A. Jones

  Anger took off like a lit skyrocket in Oz. He exploded across the desk and lunged at Jenks, catching him unawares. There was a loud scraping noise as desks were shoved halfway across the room, and a couple of chairs went flying. Oz grabbed Jenks’ lapel and dragged him forwards.

  “Don’t you ever talk about my mother or my father.” Oz ground out the words through clenched teeth.

  The really weird thing was Jenks looked shocked by what was happening, as if he couldn’t comprehend the way Oz was reacting to his insults. But then Jenks’ cronies piled in, and there was a lot of yelling and pushing and shoving as they tried to get Oz to let go. He heard a ripping noise and felt a couple of fists in his face and the next thing he knew, he was on the floor, still with Jenks’ lapels in his hands and someone’s arms around his own neck in a headlock.

  Through the mass of writhing limbs, he caught a welcome glimpse of Ellie and Ruff above him. They were pulling and yelling, too, and even throwing the odd punch. He saw Ellie land a well-aimed foot in the groin of the biggest of Jenks’ cronies, there was another loud rip, and the pressure of the bodies above him suddenly eased. Oz couldn’t see properly—there was too much sweat in his eyes—but then he heard a familiar angry voice and guessed what was going on.

  “Get up! Get up, the lot of you, this instant.”

  Oz pushed himself up off the floor onto one elbow and stared up into Miss Arkwright’s stern face. He noted dully that he was holding one of Jenks’ feebly flapping lapels in his fist as he scrambled the rest of the way to his feet. He felt something warm on his lip, and when he touched it with his tongue, he could taste blood.

  “Is this a zoo?” Miss Arkwright asked, seething. “Are you animals?” She looked around at the group of red-faced, panting pupils. No one answered.

  “Pick up these desks and chairs immediately and sit down. Now!”

  There was more scraping of chairs, but still no one spoke. Oz’s eyes met Jenks’, and he was amazed to see there was a smile on Jenks’ ferret face. The idiot had enjoyed every minute of it.

  When everyone was sitting, Miss Arkwright stood in front of the class, looking very stern. “I realise there is a great deal of…unpleasantness in this school at the moment, and it’s a difficult time for everyone. But you can all rest assured that I will get to the bottom of what just happened here, and woe betide the culprits.”

  She glanced at Oz and then at Jenks. “This is a school. It is a place where you should be learning, developing friendships, finding your way. I, for one, believe that there are forces at work both inside and outside Seabourne County that are trying, and at this moment succeeding, in disrupting that environment. All of us”—she swung a finger at the class—“have a duty to fight these forces. I will not stand for bullying, name-calling, or fighting. Do you understand?”

  As one, except for Jenks, who had his head under the desk, still trying to hide a smirk, the class answered, “Yes, miss.”

  While Miss Arkwright read out the morning’s notices, Ellie lifted her hand to her face and mouthed a “what happened?” at Oz.

  Oz shook his head and said out of the corner of his mouth, “Later.” Even as he said it, he saw Ruff was busy averting his eyes.

  When the bell went, Miss Arkwright told Oz to stay behind, and this earned him a gleeful glare from Jenks as he swaggered out with his entourage. If Miss Arkwright did see Jenks’ crowing expression, she didn’t let on. Instead, she stood in front of Oz, regarding him as if he were a naughty puppy.

  Sighing, she said, “I’m to take you straight to Miss Swinson this morning.”

  “The police, miss?”

  “I expect so.”

  “It wasn’t me that frightened Phillipa, miss.”

  “I know that. But Miss Swinson is very…” Miss Arkwright paused before enunciating the next word carefully “… thorough…when it comes to this sort of thing. However, I will be coming with you this time.” She smiled, and Oz felt suddenly a lot better.

  They walked through the school corridors past pupils hurrying to lessons. Oz could still feel stares and hear whispers, but they were much diminished with Miss Arkwright riding shotgun at his elbow. In the Volcano’s office, Oz nodded to Sergeant Thomas and WPC Keller. He caught what he thought was a hint of annoyance behind the Volcano’s glasses as she acknowledged Miss Arkwright with a tense smile, but unlike last time, she hardly said a word as Sergeant Thomas asked Oz about the day before and his whereabouts.

  “Thank you, Oscar,” Sergeant Thomas said in his chocolate voice when Oz had finished.

  “So, no one thinks it’s me, then, do they?” Oz let his eyes flick up to the Volcano, who was studiously avoiding looking at him by dusting the leaves of her flowers.

  “Obviously not.”

  “Has Phillipa said who it was?”

  Sergeant Thomas shook his head. “Unfortunately, no.”

  “Couldn’t she even tell if it was male or female?” Oz said.

  Keller stopped writing. Sergeant Thomas looked up at Oz and appeared to be deliberating whether to say anything. Finally, he cleared his throat.

  “Kieron Skinner, from what he saw, suggested that some kind of animal might have been involved. But Phillipa says it was definitely a two-legged attacker wearing a kind of animal mask.”

  “A mask?” Oz said.

  The policeman nodded. “All of which makes identification nigh on impossible.”

  There was a muffled sound from the corner. It sounded very much like a snort of derision. Everyone looked up to see the Volcano reaching for a tissue in a vain attempt at pretending that she had a cold. Keller scowled, but all the Volcano did was send her a look full of injured innocence.

  As they went back to lessons, Oz passed Aaron Bradley on his way to speak to the police and felt a lot better for seeing him, even though the same could not be said of Aaron, who looked positively chalky at the prospect of visiting the Volcano’s room. At least it confirmed that, this time, Oz wasn’t being singled out as a suspect. Miss Arkwright, however, did not take the usual route back to class. At the end of the admin corridor, she took a detour towards the refectory.

  “Come on,” she said when she saw Oz’s puzzled expression. “I think we could both do with a hot chocolate. My treat.”

  They sat in the deserted room, holding their plastic cups, watching the breeze blow some empty crisp packets about outside on the yard. Miss Arkwright chatted amiably about school and wanted to know how everything was at home. But Oz couldn’t relax, because he knew what was coming.

  Miss Arkwright let her gaze drift over to the swaying boughs of the trees on the far side of the playing fields before finally asking, “Was this morning’s fight about all this business with Kieron and Phillipa?”

  Oz shuffled his feet and spotted a small spider’s web in the corner of the ceiling to look at.

  “You might as well tell me,” Miss Arkwright said, bringing her eyes back to focus on Oz’s face with an expression of mixed exasperation and amusement. “Tracy Roper was there, so I’ll find out anyway. Do you want me to hear her version or yours?”

  Oz sighed. “Jenks was…he was…he said stuff about my mum.”

  Miss Arkwright didn’t say anything but her mouth became a thin slash.

  “What did he say?”

  “It doesn’t matter.”

  “Yes, it does, Oscar. Tell me what he said.”

  Oz felt his face get suddenly hot. He looked down at his cup and let the words spill out. “He knows that my mum was ill and needed medicine and knew someone who worked at the chemist’s where she got her prescription. He said that the tablets she was on were only for loonies. And he said that it explained why I did what I’m supposed to have done to Skinner and Pheeps.” Oz looked up into Miss Arkwright’s earnest eyes. He didn’t add anything else; there didn’t seem to be any need. Besides, he was determined to keep his father out of this. “But I haven’t done anything, honest, miss.”

  “Jenks is an ignorant twerp,” Miss Arkwright sai
d, leaning across the table and keeping her voice low, even though there was no one within thirty yards of them.

  “I know he is, miss. And I know he sort of can’t help himself. But what he says is what everyone else is thinking, isn’t it? I know it’s what Miss Swinson thinks, anyway.”

  “This will all blow over,” Miss Arkwright said in her most reassuring voice, but her lips remained compressed in anger.

  “It’ll blow over a lot quicker once they find out who’s attacking the pupils,” Oz said grimly.

  Miss Arkwright’s expression softened suddenly. “Honestly, trouble seems to find you like a bee finds honey, doesn’t it?”

  Oz shrugged. “At least Sergeant Thomas doesn’t think it’s me.”

  “Oh, Oz,” Miss Arkwright said and for one horrible moment, it looked like she wanted to take Oz in her arms in a hug. Instead, she straightened up, found a tissue up the sleeve of her cardigan, and used it to dab at Oz’s lip. The paper came away slightly stained with red.

  “Still oozing a bit,” she said, but there was softness around her eyes as she said it. She changed tack by asking him how the work was going on modifying the water cycle project in Mr Gingell’s class. Oz felt glad to be able to talk about something normal for a change and told her all about it.

  They drained their cups and made for the exit. Miss Arkwright had one more thing she wanted to say and touched Oz’s arm as they reached the door.

  “Promise me you won’t react to Jenks again. He can’t help himself. If he saw a sign that said ‘do not touch on fear of death,’ you know exactly what he’d do.”

  “I wish,” muttered Oz.

  Miss Arkwright didn’t reply, and when Oz looked up, she had one eyebrow raised in mild admonishment. But her lips were struggling to stay pursed, and Oz got the impression that, though she’d never admit it, she was fighting back a little smile.

  By the time Oz got back to class, the bell rang for the end of first lesson, and he barely made it to the science lab in time for the second. Skelton had sussed out Jenks and cronies very early in the year and made them sit right at the front. Even so, Jenks managed to send Oz a leer as he made for his seat.

  “Well?” said Ellie as he sat down next to her.

  “It was fine,” Oz said in a flat voice. “They just wanted a statement.”

  Ellie frowned and was on the point of asking another question when Skelton’s voice rang out.

  “Can I have your attention, please?”

  Everyone looked up. The science teacher was fussing over some equipment, dressed in full lab regalia, complete with safety goggles and rubber gloves. On the desk in front of him was an array of retorts and test tubes, a plastic bottle of washing-up liquid, and various stoppered glass jars of chemicals. To one side of the desk, a lab technician was adjusting an elaborate set of lights on a stand. Though Skelton had his faults, you had to give it to him—he loved doing demonstrations.

  “This morning, we’re going to be making lava toothpaste,” he went on. “As a follow-on from our discussions on catalysts, we’re going to see how iodine acts as a catalyst in the decomposition of hydrogen peroxide. When we add a crystal of potassium hydroxide, dissolved in five ccs of water, to the mixture of hydrogen peroxide, water, and washing-up liquid tinted with a bit of green food colouring for effect, oxygen will be generated in a foam and emerge like toothpaste. On the board, you will see the equation for the reaction as well as the instructions, and I’d like you all to take this down while we make final adjustments.”

  Everyone got out their books and pens and copied down the experiment. The prospect of ignitable, overflowing green foam sent a buzz around the whole room. Judging from the way Ruff had launched enthusiastically into copying down the formulae, one might be forgiven in thinking the excitement had got to him, too. Oz knew better; this was just another excuse for Ruff not to speak to him. He took one look around at his engrossed classmates and decided that this was as good a time as any to speak to Ellie and Ruff. He turned and looked pointedly from one to the other until Ellie stopped writing and returned his gaze with an annoyed shake of her head.

  “What?” Ellie said, her brow beetling in exasperation.

  “Good, I’ve got your attention at least.”

  He reached over and snatched the pen out of Ruff’shand.

  “Oy, you buzzard,” Ruff hissed.

  “You both need to listen to this, now,” Oz said, hiding.

  Ruff’s pen behind his back. “It’s important. Come on.” Oz got up and headed for the small storeroom at the rear of the lab where non-dangerous things like textbooks and spare beakers were kept. The dangerous stuff was all in the locked room just behind the blackboard.

  No one paid any attention as the trio headed for the back room. Oz led, followed by Ellie, with a grumpy and sour-faced Ruff shuffling along behind her. The rest of the class were either scribbling or guessing what exactly Skelton had up his sleeve with this lava toothpaste, and the teacher himself was absorbed in the preparations for the experiment.

  Oz ushered them in and stood at the door so he could make sure no one was listening. Ruff slouched against the wall with his arms folded, his face unsmiling, feigning boredom.

  Quickly and in hushed tones, Oz filled them in about what had happened at the Fanshaws’, while Skelton and the lab technician busied themselves with final preparations for the practical.

  By the time Oz finally got to Heeps’ recorded telephone call, both Ruff and Ellie were staring at him, completely speechless.

  “But how could Heeps possibly know what we’ve been doing?” Ellie asked.

  “They can’t do anything anymore without one of them spilling the beans,” Oz repeated. Blood was pounding in his temples, his eyes raking the others’ faces for signs of…anything.

  A mixture of horror and realisation was dawning on Ellie’s face, but it had arrived in Ruff’s brain already, judging by the dark looks he was giving Oz.

  “I haven’t said anything to anyone,” Ellie said with a shake of her head.

  “Well, somebody has,” Oz blurted before he could stop himself. “And I know it wasn’t me.”

  “So that means it must be me, then, does it?” Ruff said through clamped-together teeth, glaring at Oz.

  “Don’t know; does it?” Oz glared back.

  “We need to think this through,” Ellie said.

  No one had any opportunity of thinking anything through, though, because there was an explosive pop at the front desk, followed by a scream. The three of them bolted back into the lab to see what the fuss was about.

  At the front of the class, one of the lights on the stand had blown, and smoke billowed upwards towards the sensors. Sure enough, three seconds later, the smoke alarm started its insistent, penetrating beeping.

  In front of Oz, Tracy Roper clapped her hands to her ears. Everyone looked at Skelton, who stood frozen, measuring cylinder in one hand and a glass vial foaming gently in the other. He seemed paralysed by the sight of the burning light housing. Then reflex kicked in, and he swung towards the fire extinguisher, colliding with the lab tech, who’d already taken it off the wall.

  Two things happened at once. The extinguisher flew out of the lab tech’s hands and clanged jarringly to the floor, while the measuring cylinder that Skelton was holding spilled forward, jettisoning green foamy liquid in a graceful arc right towards the light housing. There was a tremendous flash and a burst of firecracker pops as the oxygen-laden foam ignited.

  Chaos ensued.

  Several people shouted and there were screams—mainly from Tracy Roper—as the room filled instantly with smoke.

  “OUT!” yelled Skelton as he grabbed up the extinguisher. “EVERYONE OUT IN AN ORDERLY FASHION.”

  There was a screech of stools being thrust back, and people began flooding out, coughing and spluttering as they jostled each other. Although the smoke wasn’t dense, it did catch in the throat a bit, though from the panicked look on Tracy Roper’s face it might as well have been cy
anide.

  “Leave your lab coats in a pile outside the door. Wait for me in the yard,” Skelton barked instructions over the noise of the belching fire extinguisher. Oz found himself in a tightly-packed crowd, right behind Niko Piotrowski and in front of Marcus Skyrme, being funnelled toward the door. Half a minute later, he was in the sunshine with Ellie and Ruff. Oz tore off his lab coat and threw it onto a growing pile to the right of the lab door, while Tracy Roper muttered loudly about how disgusting it was that Skelton was more worried about getting the lab coats dirty than anything else.

  “Right,” Oz said, dabbing his eyes. “We need to talk.”

  “What’s the point?” Ruff said, spitting out the words. “You obviously think I’m a spy.”

  “Why does everything have to be about you, all the time?” Ellie seethed, turning on Ruff.

  “I haven’t said anyone’s a spy,” Oz countered, his voice rising. “When did I ever say that?”

  Several people turned to stare.

  “Right, we need to get this sorted somewhere quiet,” Oz said, but he knew curious faces were turning their way. Then it came to him. “Come on; follow me.”

  “But…” Ruff protested. It was too late; Oz was already striding across the yard to the main block. He marched them along the quiet corridors as the distant wail of a fire engine reached their ears. They pushed through the doors to the old block and headed for fungus-infested Room 62. Oz waited until they were all in and shut the door. He took out the pebble and pressed the maker’s mark. Soph appeared instantly.

  “Soph, play us the Fanshaws’ recording of Heeps’ phone call to Meecher, please.”

  Oz watched their faces. Ellie’s looked troubled, unable, it seemed, to believe what she was hearing. Ruff’s, however, bore the usual sour pout Oz had got used to seeing all too often lately. When Soph finished, Oz said, “You know what they did to Bendle. If he wasn’t completely round the bend before, he must be now.”

  “Oz, I swear I haven’t told anyone,” Ellie said in a solemn voice.